Black Room
by Majestic Waters
Summary: ONE SHOT. Ginny's tired of her rosy room, and wants to paint it black. She explains why to her mother, and Molly is utterly mortified. Let's find out why, shall we? CLICK RR (New Version)


A/N: Hey! This is the new and improved version of Black Room. If you happened to read the first version, I apologize for its ever being written. I hope you like this one!

Disclaimer: I'm not J.K. Rowling. Sometimes, I pretend to be… but it never works out. I always wind up being the elephant cleaner at some circus. Don't ask me how…. It just happens.

**Black Room**

**By Majestic Waters**

Ginny scratched her head, again and again. _Scratch… scratch… scratch. Itch… Itch…Itch_. _**Oh**! _Ginny moaned silently._ **I can't live like this. It's torture!**_ She glared down at her wand that was lying innocently on her rose-patterned comforter. The rose-painted walls glared at her, boxed her in, and surrounded her…. The rose petals her mother had spread all over her dresser-top gave off the rose-scented smell, and the rose-leaf-tinted carpet became the writhing sea, that was pulling her under… under…. Scratch… Scratch. She scratched her deep, rose-colored head. This room was most definitely giving her hives.

Ginny nodded once, having come to a split-second decision. She was going to rid her room of the flower once and for all. She yanked the door open, (whose handle was in the shape of a…), and stormed down the stairs, three at a time, crying, "Mum! Mummy!" all the way. She found her mum in the kitchen, of course, mixing something yellow and gloopy in a large ceramic bowl. "Mum!"

"Yes, dear?" Her mother was always one for pleasantries. But she had more important things to address.

"Mother… I want to paint my room black." Molly Weasley's back stiffened, and she delicately placed the bowl on the hardwood counter.

"Ginny, dear… why on earth would you want to do a silly thing like that? Really, I think the rose suits you."

"I want to paint my room black, Mother." Ginny said again.

Slowly, Molly turned to face her daughter, a smile plastered on her face, and death in her eyes. "Ginny… _Darling_, I don't think you know what you're talking about. It's tradition. All of the girls in our family have had rosy rooms… are you saying you don't want a rosy room…?" Molly narrowed her eyes, daring her to say 'no,' but when she made no reply, Molly continued, "By removing the rosy-ness of the room, your denying that you're a Weasley; you're ostracizing yourself from the family, and breaking a tradition as old as Merlin's counsel! Besides-" she went on, turning her back on Ginny to keep up her stirring, "black's just not your color."

Fuming, Ginny walked up to her mother and yanked the mixing bowl out of her hands, tossing it down on the kitchen table. "I don't care what you think! Why can't you just try to understand?" Molly put her hands on her hips and gave Ginny her iciest stare.

"This is just a phase, Ginevra…" said she through gritted teeth, and when Ginny tried to interject, " and if this is _not_ a phase… _child_, so help me." Ginny took an involuntary step back, re-asserted herself, and took two steps forward.

"No, Mum, I won't let you do it. I just won't let you! I deserve to paint my room any color I want! I _deserve_ to be treated like an adult! You'll _hear_ what I have to say!" To her surprise, her mother gave a short _harrumph, _crossed her arms,and began to tap her foot impatiently, expectantly.

"_Well…?"_ Closing her eyes, Ginny took a deep, steadying breath.

"Okay. As I see things, things just can't stay the way they are. I mean, for generations, we Weasley's have looked at the world through rose-colored spectacles. We Weasley's always have to look at the bright side of things. We're easy-going, fun-loving, sweater-wearing people. But sometimes, that just isn't enough." Ginny pulled out a wooden chair, and gestured for her mother to take a seat. Reluctantly, Mrs. Weasley uncrossed her arms, graciously sitting and crossing her legs.

"Mum… you know, now that Dumbledore's… gone, things are different." Mrs. Weasley, looked up at the ceiling, blinking her eyes rapidly. "Mum, you know how bad things have gotten. That's why we've decided to start a new Order to combat the Dark Lord and his followers: The Black Order." Molly looked down at her daughter in alarm.

"_We_? Who's this '**_we_**'? I certainly didn't--"

"No, you didn't, Mum. **_We_** did. Ron and Hermione and Neville and Dean and Luna and Draco and I and…and Harry." Mrs. Weasley drew herself up in her chair, huffing loudly.

"Oh! So it's all _Harry's_ idea, eh? Well, I won't have it! This "Black Order" idea of yours is preposterous; sounds like a cult more than a--"

"Oh, will you just shut your mouth!" Shocked and appalled, Mrs. Weasley gazed into the eyes of her outraged little girl. "This _isn't_ about Harry—this is about all of us! All of us—one people, striving for one goal: to purge the world of evil! Can't you see the world getting darker around you? The earth is getting blacker by the day and bloodier by the minute every single second Lord Voldemort is free…." Mrs. Weasley appeared frightened for a moment, before composing her face into a twisted kind of smile.

"Well, dear…. I think it's good that we had this little chat. Now, if you'll just help me finish the baking, we can have dinner ready before your father gets home…."

Almost pulling her hair in frustration, Ginny couldn't help involuntarily kicking her mother in the shin. Her mother yelped, and hobbled off the chair, trying to escape her daughter's wrath. "Oooh, no you don't!" Ginny leaped onto her mother's back, bringing her, (and the bowl of goopy-yellow mix), crashing down to the floor. Growling, Ginny took her mother by the shoulders and shook her. "Are you so caught up in all your rosy ignorance that you don't understand what I'm trying to tell you!"

"_Oh_! My _back_!"

"See that, mother?" Ginny panted, continuing to shake her helpless mum. "Pain! The world is full of it!"

"Gerroff me, Ginny!"

"Not until you listen!" She stopped shaking her, and chose instead to fix her with another hard glare. "The world is black, full of death and mourning, anger and sadness, fear and remorse. But black can also mean knowledge and piety, elegance and wealth, serenity and humbleness, mystery and daring… but most of all it means the beginning of new life. Out of darkness there always comes life. Which is why I refuse to live a rosy reality. This is not a time for sympathy and joy and grace. Pink is a symbol of female oppression, of nurturing and simple emotions. I can't live that way anymore, Mum, and that is why I choose to live a black being. Love will just have to wait!" Ginny sighed, wistfully for a moment, before bringing herself back to reality. "So… what do you think?"

"…."

"Mum…?"

"I think… you're crushing my windpipe…." Jumping off of her mother quickly, Ginny sheepishly offered her a hand.

"Heh. Err… sorry 'bout that." Mrs. Weasley stood, a bit woozily, and quickly found a chair to plop down in. She inhaled deeply. _Cough. Cough. Weeeeze._

"Don't--" _gasp_, "worry about it, _dear_. No real harm done." She looked at her daughter then, grimly and with narrowed eyes. "So… you really want to paint your room black…?"

"… Yes. I do." Molly sighed deeply, scratching the back of her neck. _Scratch. Scratch._

"Well… alright, then. I guess we'd better get started." Ginny squealed, scooping her mum up into a big hug.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Gerroff! Please!" Ginny let go quickly.

"Sorry…"

"Don't apologize! Just… just _go_! _For the love of Merlin_!" After stealing one more rib-crushing hug, Ginny skipped out of the room, feeling lighter than she had felt in weeks. Moaning, Molly laid her head on her hands, wondering what on earth had blessed her with such a violently psychotic daughter.

"Mum?" Molly picked her head up with a start, narrowing her eyes at the youngest of her sons. Ron looked worriedly at his mother, scratching the back of his head. _Scratch. Scratch. _

"What do _you _want?" Widening his eyes in distress, Ron laughed nervously before slowly backing out of the room.

"Heh. Oh, nothing, really. I was just wondering if you'd help me paint my room. But I can see that you're busy, and--"

"_Get out!_"

A/N: Hoped you liked it! Remember: reviewing is **_strongly suggested_**!


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